


Campers Anonymous

by ImmodestMussorgsky



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Gen, alcoholics anonymous but it's for campers, all about that wholesome killer action, survivors get involved hee hee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27011980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmodestMussorgsky/pseuds/ImmodestMussorgsky
Summary: Some of the killers in the Entity's realm have a bad camping habit. Wraith wants to see his colleagues succeed without the use of hook camping, so he organizes a little group he calls Campers Anonymous. To his surprise, people actually start showing up.
Comments: 27
Kudos: 120





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> I have been camped one too many times. Granted, I'm a pretty low rank survivor, so I'm bound to get my fair share of baby hook-camping killers. This idea came to me after a particularly frustrating trial. Why not write wholesome crack about killers getting together to stop their camping addictions? 
> 
> Please note that the killers' personalities are probably not written true to their characters, but what the hell, I wanted to have fun with it. Enjoy!

“Alright, everybody. Our meeting is in session!” Wraith gave the room a warm smile and rang his bell twice. “Let’s start with names? Trapper, how about you go first?”

A few audible sighs could be heard. Wraith could practically feel some of the eyerolls the killers were giving, most notably Ghostface and Legion, but remained optimistic. 

Trapper wrung his hands nervously and looked around the room. Almost all of his fellow killers sat around him in a circle, except the ones that refused to attend. Even the ones that were wearing masks seemed to stare at him expectantly. He cleared his throat. 

“Um, my name is Evan. But you guys know me as Trapper. I’ve been clean from camping for two trials now.” 

“Hi, Evan.” came the monotone chorus of voices around him. 

“Okay, your turn, Billy.” Wraith gestured towards the hulking and deformed creature sitting to his left. 

“My name is Max. I…” he looked to the floor in shame. “I haven’t really stopped camping at all.” To everybody’s surprise, the chainsaw-toting maniac had a very polite and subdued voice. 

“Hi, Max.” this time, the greetings were followed by some murmurs of consolation. 

Everybody turned towards the Shape, who sat motionlessly in his chair. Nothing could be heard from him except for muffled breathing. Wraith wasn’t even sure why he came to the meeting. He never contributed, nor did he greet anybody or try to create a welcoming environment. Nobody pushed him to come to Campers Anonymous, but he showed up anyway. It was puzzling, to say the least. 

“I know our friend the Shape here isn’t really comfortable with talking, so I’ll introduce him to you all. Everybody, this is Michael. I’m not sure how long he’s been camping--” said Wraith. 

“Not at all, actually!” piped Spirit. “I mean, he used to, but ever since we had our last meeting, he’s been doing really well.” she offered the Shape a smile, which he did not return or acknowledge. 

“Excellent! Well, everybody, say hi to Michael! Ghostface, how about you--”

“Hi, hello, whatever. My name is Danny, and I haven’t been clean from camping the hook at all, ever, because I don’t fucking camp.” Ghostface leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. Nobody could see his expression behind his mask, but everybody knew that he had that signature  _ why am I here, fuck all of you  _ look on his face. 

“Oh yeah? You don’t camp? Sitting in a bush next to the hook with your stupid shroud shit counts as camping, you dumbfuck.” Legion retorted viciously. “Why are you even here, anyway?” 

  
  


“It’s called  _ stalking _ , smart one.” Ghostface’s voice grew venomous as he flipped Legion the bird. “And I’m here so I can laugh at you amateurs that still get kills from camping.” 

“Stalking, my ass. That is  _ literally  _ camping. The only difference is that you’re sitting in a bush like a complete kook.” 

“Hey, why the fuck are  _ you  _ here, then? If you haven’t already noticed, you’re the only one from your little family that got invited here, because the rest of them are actually decent at killing.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Legion growled, springing from his chair with his hand on his knife. “If we could harm each other your guts would be all over the floor, you little bitch. And for the record, I’m here because I actually want to improve my skills and better myself. Bet you don’t know what that’s like at all.”

Ghostface scoffed and waved his knife in the air nonchalantly. “Whatever you say, King Frank. Keep crying. Somebody will change your diaper eventually.” 

Legion gave an enraged scream and charged towards Ghostface, but was grabbed by the hood and pulled back by Trapper. Wraith gave him a look of gratitude. 

“Didn’t I say no weapons at our CA meetings? Please, this is no place to fight. We’re all here to better ourselves.” he rubbed his nose in exasperation and prompted the others to continue. 

The greetings went around the circle, even to Huntress and Plague, who had obvious language barriers. Plague was also sitting six feet outside the circle, coughing into a bloodstained handkerchief. She didn’t seem to mind the separation, every now and again enthusiastically contributing something that nobody could really understand. 

“Our topic today is successes. Little victories. I know that camping can make us feel very isolated and guilty, but today we’ll share our stories of success. And if you don’t have any successes you can think of, tell us something positive about your last trial.” Wraith adjusted his glasses and gave another smile to the group. “Our discussion will be popcorn style today, friends. Just speak whenever you feel ready.” 

Nobody spoke. 

Finally, Nurse interrupted the long silence and cleared her throat. “I tried using three blinks instead of camping the hook in my last trial. Two people escaped, but I felt better that I didn’t camp them.” Some nods of approval went around the circle. 

“Thank you for sharing, Sally. Anybody else?” 

Spirit raised her hand. “I stopped camping a few trials ago and I’ve really improved my chasing skills. I think I’m doing a lot better with my phase walking abilities, too. I hope you all know what it’s like to not be a camper one day.” She rested her hands on her lap and gave everybody a proud smile. 

“That’s great, Rin. I’m glad that you experienced that.” Wraith said warmly. “What about you, Frank?”

Legion shrugged. “I never really camped to begin with, but I’ve been trying to look for other survivors more instead of just patrolling the hooked ones. Nothing special about it, though.” 

“Hey, that’s progress.” Nurse rasped. Legion gave her a nod. 

Just then, a loud, metallic scraping could be heard from down the hall, accompanied by heavy footsteps.  _ Plod, plod, screeeeech. Plod, plod, screeeech. _

“Oh, great. That triangle-headed freak is going to join us.” grumbled Ghostface, who was shot an irritated glance by Wraith. The Executioner stopped and stood in the doorway. 

“Pyramid Head! I’m so glad you could make it. Please, find a chair and have a seat.” 

As if pondering his request, the Executioner tilted his massive pyramid head to the side, then plodded forward. A few of the killers flinched at the screeching of his blade on the floor, then jumped as he dropped it with a loud  _ clang _ . He moved slowly and deliberately, pulling one of the small chairs from a stack in the corner of the room and forcing himself between Ghostface and Legion. The chair he was perched atop was dwarfed by his massive stature. Secretly, Wraith was glad the silent beast of a man was here. He would at least serve as a barrier between the two squabbling young men. 

It was curious as to why the Executioner showed up to these meetings, too, considering the fact that his entire existence was dedicated to executing judgment against survivors. Wraith was surprised that he even cared enough about a survivor’s trial experience enough to come to a meeting about ending camping addictions. Like the Shape, he didn’t speak, but at least made low rumbling noises of agreement occasionally. It was sweet, in a bizarre way, that he at least enjoyed everybody’s company enough to sit in silence and spectate their group therapy. 

“Do you have anything to share with us today?” Wraith said, offering him a cheerful smile. He always asked, even though the Executioner rarely gave him any acknowledgment or answer. But it was Wraith’s imperative that all killers deserved to be included, even if they didn’t have anything to contribute. 

The monstrous man sat silently for a moment, then stood and retrieved his blade. He heaved it from the ground, dragged it with a loud  _ screeeech  _ between his and Ghostface’s chairs. The smaller killer huffed and glared at the back of his bloodstained helmet. The Executioner dragged it to the middle of the circle and held it out proudly towards Wraith, almost offering him the handle, its tip digging into the linoleum floor. 

Upon closer inspection, the grimy, impossibly sharp edge of his blade was covered in fresh blood and viscera that could only be survivor guts. 

“Oh? You’ve… gotten more kills?” Wraith guessed. 

  
  


The Executioner nodded and motioned with his hands as if asking him to continue.

“You’ve gotten more moris?” 

He nodded eagerly, resting the handle of his blade under his arm to clap in excitement. He mimed a crushing motion with one of his hands, then thrust it forward like he was stabbing something. Wraith beamed. It was exciting seeing one of the more shy killers get a little excited over their memento mori offerings. The Executioner dragged the blade behind him back to his seat and rested it gently on the ground next to his chair. 

“Okay, well, this is boring as fuck and I have better things to be doing.” Ghostface sneered.

“Oh yeah? Like whacking off to pictures of people in the shower, you perv? Have fun.” Legion said. 

“Listen, kid, I’m not going to tolerate more of your bullshit--” 

The Executioner roared and grabbed each of the young men by their collars, shaking them violently. The two fell back into stunned silence as they were dropped back onto their seats. Hopefully, this would shut them up for a while. 

“Uh… can I go now?” Oni said. Wraith nodded at him. “I haven’t stopped camping at all.” He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “But last trial I got to mori somebody right at the exit gate.” 

“Were they the last one?” Trapper asked. 

“Yeah. But they just hid the entire time and didn’t do any gens, so I figured their teammates wouldn’t really mind.”

“Nice.” 

The rest of the killers went around and shared their stories. The positive developments made Wraith gleam on the inside. Only two meetings in and everybody was getting to know each other, even developing friendships, and even the shyer killers were beginning to speak up. Except the Shape, but nobody was really bothered by the silent man anymore. Soon, the clock on the wall read 12:30 and killers began giving their goodbyes and filing out of the room.

“Bye, suckers.” Ghostface hopped out of his chair, the first to leave. He said that he only came to these meetings to gloat, but Wraith knew better. He just enjoyed the company. 

“Thanks for the meeting, Wraith.” Legion said gruffly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he exited the room. Spirit gave a little wave. The rest of the killers streamed out the door, discussing things quietly with each other. The Executioner trailed after them slowly, dragging his blade down the hallway. Soon, the only person remaining in the room with Wraith was the Shape. 

“Yes, Michael? Did you have something you wanted to discuss with me?” 

The Shape stood up and shuffled towards the other killer. He reached a hand out, gesturing for Wraith to hand him his clipboard and pen. 

“Oh? Do you need to write something?” 

He nodded and took them from Wraith’s hands, writing a message in careful, small handwriting. It read:  _ Thank you for doing this. I have a serious habit.  _

Wraith smiled reassuringly and gave the Shape’s shoulder a soft pat. “Always my pleasure, Michael. You’re welcome to share at our next meeting. I promise nobody is going to think any less of you.”

The masked man looked at Wraith for a good long moment, then nodded slowly and left the room. The gentle killer made a few last notes on his clipboard and began stacking the chairs back up with a content sigh. Things were beginning to look up for his camping compatriots. 


	2. CA's First Community Potluck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapper suggests that CA hold a potluck event to get the killers to be a little more social. Wraith is overjoyed at this idea.

At 7 AM, the alarm clock next to Wraith’s bed began to shriek. 

He groaned, rolling over under his thin blanket and covering his ears with his pillow. The alarm did not stop shrieking. It also didn’t have a snooze button. When he had asked the Entity to provide him with a means of waking up on time, she clearly hadn’t studied alarm clocks well enough. 

The thing was faithful and always rang on time, though. The worst thing about sleeping in was being late for a trial, or even worse: unprepared for one. Being whisked away to Autohaven or Red Forest without getting a chance to don any garments or brush his teeth was just unacceptable. Luckily, the Entity felt the same way. 

Wraith sat up groggily and tossed his blanket to the side, tapping the  _ off  _ button on the clock. Today was going to be the CA group’s first  _ community potluck,  _ an idea that Trapper had come up with after the first few meetings. What better way to bond and facilitate conversation than over delicious food? He was particularly excited to see what each member would bring. Contributing to the potluck was not compulsory, of course, but he hoped at least a few of them would participate. He had cooked one of his favorite dishes the night before-- a big crock pot of jollof rice-- that he hoped his friends would enjoy. 

He flicked through the crowded row of hangers on his clothing rack, musing over what to wear. Opera suit? No, too formal. His white waxy robes were certainly a conversation piece, but the headgear was a bit too over the top for this occasion. He settled on his comfortable blue shawl and buttoned it carefully around his shoulders. It was weathered, but the shade of blue was positively charming. 

The red bandages were more of a stylistic choice more than a functional garment. In the beginning, after he first arrived in the Fog, the cold air made his skin dry and itchy. The Entity had supplied bandages and moisturizer as a solution, but even after Wraith’s skin had adjusted, he continued to wear them. He thought they gave him a rugged, adventurous look, and besides, the other killers and survivors had gotten to know him that way. He had started dyeing the bandages one day to compliment the colors of his hand-sewn shawls. There were actually a few rolls that he had tie-dyed earlier hanging up to dry above his kitchen sink. He couldn’t wait to put those on. The survivors would love it!

The rest of the morning was as serene and relaxing as could be. Breakfast was scrambled eggs and black coffee. The Entity had left a package of colored markers on his kitchen table after she noticed his journaling hobby. Today’s entry was adorned in pink flowers and blue butterflies, with bold red dots of blood splattered across the lower margins. In neat cursive at the top of the page, he wrote  _ Potluck today! So excited.  _ He busied himself dusting his little shack while dancing to the tunes of the radio, and before he knew it, it was time for the meeting.

Giddy with excitement, Wraith reheated his pot of jollof rice (carefully on low heat so as to not burn the bottom), then packaged it carefully in his biggest tote bag. His hopes were high for this meeting-- who knew what Myers or Pyramid Head would bring? The anticipation was exhilarating. 

❈❈❈

Traveling between places in the Fog was always a little weird. For starters, Wraith  _ sometimes  _ had neighbors, depending on where his shack materialized, and it was a little disorienting waking up next door to Hillbilly and going to bed in Spirit’s backyard. It seemed like the Entity had trouble remembering where everybody lived, and shuffled it up every time Wraith had to come back from a trial. He didn’t mind, though. It was fun to visit his colleagues every so often, and the mixing and matching kept things interesting. Huntress’ home was by far the most impressive, with luxurious furs lining every comfortable place in the house and rustic lanterns lighting the interior in a calm golden glow. Killers like Hag he couldn’t figure out… she literally lived under a rock in a hole in the ground. Who would enjoy that kind of architecture? She was a little strange, secretive, and almost entirely nonverbal, though, so who knew what creature comforts she had requested from the Entity. 

To get to the classroom where he hosted the Campers Anonymous meetings, he simply had to walk into the dark mist that surrounded his house and think about Midwich Elementary. Without fail, it would somehow materialize and come into view in just a few minutes of walking. Sometimes it took a little longer to get there. Wraith didn’t mind. He enjoyed the exercise. 

Peering down the hallway of the dilapidated school, he called out to see if anybody had arrived yet. 

“Yoohoo! Anybody here?” 

He heard a distant noise of a startled killer. 

“Philip! You scared me.” Trapper poked his head out of the second classroom on the right and gave a little wave. “I’m sorry I got here so early. I wanted to help set up the tables.” 

Wraith smiled gratefully. “No need to apologize. I appreciate the extra help.” He hurried up to the classroom and placed a hand on Trapper’s shoulder. 

He couldn’t see it behind the mask, but the larger killer’s cheeks grew rosy red. 

“Oh! Evan, you’re wonderful!” Wraith picked his tote bag back up and looked around the classroom, where two long tables had been set up and draped in butcher paper. A large cast iron dutch oven, a ladle, a stack of paper dinnerware, and a bundle of plastic eating utensils sat at the far end. “Thank you so much. I’ll set up the chairs. What did you bring?” 

“Bear stew. It might be a little salty… try it.” 

Trapper dipped a spoon into the still-piping hot stew and scooped up a chunk of meat. He blew on it a few times, then held it out to Wraith to take. To his surprise, the smaller killer simply steered his mouth to the spoonful and ate it out of Trapper’s hand. 

Trapper’s face was on  _ fire _ now, and he tried not to sound flustered. “H-How is it?”

“Delicious! You’ll have to show me the recipe sometime.” Wraith’s face lit up and he frolicked over to the stack of chairs across the room. He began to set them up in a neat circle. Fifteen chairs in total, if everybody who had RSVPed actually showed up. Campers Anonymous was slowly growing in membership, and Wraith was considering asking another killer to help facilitate a second group. These meetings were his pride and joy, though, and he didn’t want to give up the chance of being able to help more of his colleagues. 

Finally, Wraith uncovered his crock pot and set it next to Trapper’s stew. All that was left was for the rest of their friends to show up!

Minutes seemed to last forever until a familiar wheezing drifted down the hall towards the classroom, accompanied by the quiet rattling of… plates? 

“Sally!” Wraith clapped in excitement and rushed over to her to help her with her food, which appeared to be a large tray full of little glass ramekins. “So glad you could make it.” 

“Of course,” she wheezed. “I brought pudding. My favorite recipe.” 

He peered over into the tray and was delighted to see a dozen ramekins filled to the brim with decadent chocolate pudding, topped off with neat little whipped cream flowers. The sight of it made his mouth water, and he could barely restrain his chirrup of utter glee. 

“These are breathtaking! You can set those down… hm, let’s make this second table one for desserts.” 

More and more killers filtered in, some with dishes, some without. 

“Philip!” Spirit tugged Oni by the hand as they entered the room. “We made gyoza. It was a great bonding activity.” she smiled and produced two round dishes full of delicious smelling dumplings. Wraith thanked them both and ushered them to their seats, where some of the killers already sat, conversing over plates of food. Bubba’s arrival was welcomed, even though a few of the others raised their eyebrows at the contents of his chili. The yellow-aproned killer was much shyer than the rest of them and opted to sit in a quiet corner of the room, chowing down politely. The Executioner had shown up holding a huge cake, retrieving his blade and slicing it up with care. Soon, most of Wraith’s compatriots were in attendance, and the room was alive with laughter and conversation. Joy bubbled up in Wraith’s heart. It was just Legion and Ghostface that were missing now… he wouldn’t be surprised if they were in a fistfight outside the school somewhere. 

“Everybody!” He rang his bell twice to get the attention of the room. “I just want to thank you all for coming and for bringing your delicious dishes. This couldn’t have happened without your support.” He brought a hand to his chest and couldn’t help but give all of his colleagues a beaming smile. “I’m so proud of your progress so far--” 

Just then, his speech was interrupted by the sound of hurried footfall in the hallway. Legion burst into the room, oven gloves on, holding a steaming tray of cookies. 

“Sorry I’m late! The cookies took a little longer than expected-- Susie, come here--” Frank ushered Susie forward, who was holding another tray. She stood there like a deer in headlights. “We didn’t have time to put them in no container or nothin’.” He strode to the table, pushing her forward insistently, murmuring something into her ear. She nodded and speed-walked to the tables, setting her tray down next to his and then dashing back to stand behind him, her hands clasped behind her back. 

“Julie ‘n’ Joey are just waiting outside the school. I kinda offered them free food for helping me with the cookies…” he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “If Susie and I could just take a few plates out there?” 

“They’re welcome to come in! There’s plenty of food to go around.” Wraith gestured to the bountiful spread on the tables. “I’m glad you could make it. The cookies smell delightful.” 

Frank stood there for a moment, then nodded. “If you say so, Phil.” He disappeared into the hallway, leaving Susie standing there awkwardly. Soon, he reappeared with two other teenagers in tow. Julie had her arms crossed. Joey, like Susie, stood partially obscured by the doorway, as if hesitant to enter without Frank’s command. 

“Go on, guys, get your grub.” Frank held his hand out in the direction of the buffet tables. “Nobody’s gonna bite.”

The festivities resumed. Even Ghostface showed up and settled into pleasant conversation with Spirit and Deathslinger. He didn’t have a dish to bring with him, but Wraith was just grateful that he had warmed up so much to the group. 

Sighing, he finally allowed himself to sit down and eat. It was a beautiful sight to see, all of his colleagues taking a well-deserved break from work to socialize, and he felt a warm feeling of contentment in his heart knowing that his work was paying off. Before he knew it, he had dozed off in the corner, head leaning against the wall, empty plate at his feet. 

❈❈❈

“Philip?” Trapper nudged his shoulder gently. “Philip, wake up.” 

Wraith’s pinprick eyes snapped open. “Oh… oh dear. Planning this party must have taken a lot out of me.” He sat up and rubbed his forehead. “How long was I asleep?” 

“A little while now.” Trapper looked back behind him at the killers who were now divvying up leftovers. “Are you sure you’re not too tired to clean up? I can stay late and put everything away…”

Wraith’s appreciation for Trapper transcended his ability to speak in that moment. He had done so much for Wraith and the rest of the group while also battling his own camping addiction. To say he was a big help to Campers Anonymous was an understatement-- at this point, he was next to Wraith in keeping it alive and well. 

  
  


“That would be greatly appreciated, Evan.” Wraith yawned wide and Trapper couldn’t help but find it a little cute. “You are such an amazing member of this group. I hope you know how much your help means to me.” 

Trapper pulled a chair up next to the smaller killer and patted his beefy shoulder. “If you need a little more rest, you’re welcome to use me as a pillow.” 

Wraith looked up into his bone-white mask and saw two half-lidded, long-lashed eyes looking warmly down at him. They were beautiful. It was a shame they were hidden behind a mask most of the time. 

“Well…” he knew he had to get up and start cleaning at some point, but Trapper’s shoulder looked so comfortable… 

“I’ll rest my eyes for just a few minutes.” he leaned towards the larger killer and rested his head gingerly in the crook of Trapper’s neck. Within minutes, he was drifting into sleep, his breathing soft and rhythmic. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he felt Trapper’s arm wrap around his shoulder and pull him in closer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fucking ridiculous, I know. I've turned these killers into humble suburb dwellers. I hope you enjoyed Wraith's potluck. <3 
> 
> Trapper might have a little crush...


	3. Family Therapy (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trapper jokes about bringing survivors into the meeting, and Wraith seizes that suggestion with gusto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is very quickly becoming my cute "happy place" piece that I work on when I want to think about good things. I hope you guys enjoy! Leave a comment if you liked it or if you have any ideas for me for the next few chapters, I'm totally open. <3

“Okay, guys, now that we’re all back together…” 

Jake stood up and paced in front of the crowd around the campfire. Not everybody was there, but he supposed that the small group they had amassed was close enough. Word would spread. And the people there were mostly the people he got along with, anyways. Meg and Claudette sat together against a log. Feng leaned up against a rock reading a comic book, Nea peering over her shoulder. David was busy rifling through a newly scavenged toolbox, not even listening. 

“I think… most of the killers stopped camping? And Legion-- the pink haired one-- smelled absolutely delicious when she picked me up last trial.” 

“Like chocolate chip cookies!” Claudette exclaimed, setting aside the grass crown she had been absentmindedly weaving together. “I swear, it was like I was back in my grandma’s kitchen again. There’s no way we were imagining it.” 

Meg nodded. “Ace, Laurie, Feng, and I went up against a Bubba… and he didn’t facecamp any of us! He actually gave me hatch at the end of it.” she rested her head in both her hands and furrowed her brow. “Something is seriously outta whack here.” 

“I haven’t noticed anything,” David chimed in. “But maybe I just haven’t gotten lucky.”

“So it’s not just me, then. The killers really are being nicer.” Jake scratched the back of his head and continued to pace around the campfire. 

The small group of survivors were sitting in their cozy little clearing in the forest. The fire wasn’t really a necessity, since the air never really dropped below a lukewarm temperature, but Jake would build them every now and again for atmosphere. It illuminated the corridors of trees that surrounded them, its flickering light bathing everybody’s face in a warm golden glow. The living situations weren’t really that bad, surprisingly. For a creature that liked to feed off of peoples’ suffering, the Entity sure did set them up nicely. 

For one thing, there was a pleasant little pond just a short walk away from the campfire. Its tepid water was mostly clean, save for the swampy grasses around its perimeter, and a small wooden dock had been built on its bare shore. The survivors found it quite a pleasant place to bathe. The water was never really cold, and the dock made for a good place to do laundry or dip their feet in. It was no luxurious hot shower, for sure, but it was a nice accommodation in the otherwise hellish experience of being trapped in the Fog. 

And as for the sleeping situation, they had all been supplied thick, soft sleeping bags that most of them had quickly situated in their preferred spots. It was a little funny to Jake how new people would show up. They’d be disoriented and scared, of course, but they’d always materialize holding a duffel bag of clothes and their rolled sleeping bag under their arm. It was like watching people arrive at a sleepover party. A never ending, violent, terrifying sleepover party. The few supplies the Entity granted them usually made it easier for the newcomers to settle in. Jake’s running theory was that if she could keep the survivors comfortable outside of trials, it would make their experience with the killers all the more disturbing and brimming with fear, thus, much more full of intense emotions and misery to feed off of. 

But between trials, they had it pretty good. Most of his time was spent lounging around the campfire, reading whatever book the Entity would materialize for him, or off in the forest foraging with Claudette. This time, it was a manual on coding in C++. Maybe it was planning on granting him a computer soon?

Jake stopped pacing and rubbed his chin. “The killers that still camp are mostly the… gross looking ones.” 

“So Hag and the Nightmare?” Nea snickered. “Blight and Doctor too. Yuck.” 

“Actually… yeah. Now that I think of it. Ghostface, too.” he furrowed his brow in thought. “If we all live together, do you think all the killers live together too? Maybe they’re getting lessons.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. I imagine it must be pretty lonely as a killer.” Claudette said as she placed her newly woven flower crown atop Meg’s braids. “Maybe they have a club or something.”

“Maybe…” he finally sat down atop one of the logs, gears in his mind turning. “Maybe.”

✦✦✦

“Uno.” Billy said smugly, setting down his penultimate card: a red _2_. 

“Okay, everybody against Max now.” Nurse rasped. She set her card down atop the pile next. Trapper drummed his fingers on the side of his mask and set down his. Wraith, who was staring off across the room, absentmindedly tossed his card forward. 

“Philip, that’s not even the right color or number--” Nurse began, interrupted by Billy throwing down his last card and whooping triumphantly. “Hey! That doesn’t count!” 

Trapper’s attention was turned to Wraith, who was still silent. “Phil? You okay?”

“Huh-- oh. Yes. I’m sorry.” he jumped, startled, then shook his head and smoothed down his shawl. “Did I throw the game? I’m terribly sorry.” 

“Winners are winners!” Billy cheered, snatching the little mesh bag of chocolate coins from the center of the table. “See, Philip didn’t even take his card back.” he stood up clumsily and lumbered towards the door. “I’m going to go give some to Rin!” 

“Hey, wait up! I wanna come!” Nurse called, floating in his direction. She hadn’t quite caught on about Billy’s crush on the Spirit, and was unknowingly about to intrude on his flirtatious gesture. 

Trapper leaned in closer towards Wraith. “Something on your mind?” 

“The group. I’m sorry. I know it’s all I talk about, but…” Wraith trailed off, resting his head in his hands. “I _know_ there are some of us that it just isn’t reaching. They need more support. Danny especially… I know he just needs some guidance.” 

“He’s just immature. I don’t think he really has any intent to improve.” 

“That’s the thing, though. I can _see_ it in him. I know he can be better. He just needs that extra push, and I know if I try to say something to him he’ll put up all his walls again.” 

“It might not be worth the effort.” Trapper pushed gently. 

“It _has_ to be!” Wraith balled his hands into fists and shook them in the air. “He shows up, right? There must be some way.” he sighed, sounding defeated. “I’m terribly sorry. I don’t mean to get so worked up over this.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“Some way to get him to see how harmful his behavior is.”

“I really don’t think any of the survivors would willingly show up to one of our meetings, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Wraith’s face lit up. 

“Survivors! What a wonderful idea!”

“Philip…” Trapper began. 

“You’re a genius!” The smaller killer leapt up from his chair and began to pace around the kitchen. “I think I know exactly how we can get a few unwilling participants...”

  
  


✦✦✦

Jake was in yet another boring game of Never Have I Ever with a group of his fellow survivors. Boring was an understatement-- it was positively _mind-numbing_ on account of the fact that almost everybody there had exhausted just about every interesting question on the list of never-have-I-evers. The group of survivors were so diverse that _somebody_ was bound to lose a point, no matter what the question was, and once they had all played it once it essentially lost its value as a game.

Never have I ever broken the law? Nea had been there, done that. Never have I ever beaten somebody within an inch of their life? David had that in the bag. Never have I ever played strip poker with Mila Kunis? Okay, nobody believed Ace on that one.

But there were only so many games they had to play that didn’t involve cards, or a board, or anything game-like, for that matter. Truth or dare made an occasional appearance, but more often than not the game would slowly dissolve after Ash suggested one too many dares that involved stripping. 

“I’m gonna go for a walk, guys.” Jake got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his backside. “Anyone wanna come with me?”

“I’ll go!” Claudette said, eager to leave the game. Meg and Dwight stood, too. The rest of the survivors shrugged and kept going with their game. Their dull chatter faded away as the four of them walked out of the clearing and down the forest path.

“Just like old times, huh?” Meg said. “I remember when it was just the four of us. God, things are so different now.”

“I’d say it feels like a long time ago, but I’m not sure how long we’ve even been here.” Dwight said, looking around. “Weird to think we’ve gotten used to it.”

“I’m just glad I have you guys.” Claudette said, the corners of her mouth quirked upwards in a small smile. “We _have_ been here the longest. I feel I’m the closest with you all more than anybody else.”

“I’m glad too.” Jake murmured. 

Just then, a loud, ominous rustling came from the foliage just ahead of them. He stopped in his tracks. It sounded like something _big_ , and was way too vigorous to just be the wind. It couldn’t have been an animal. Jake was sure that nothing inhabited these woods except for the survivors and the crows…

“ _Run!”_ he yelled, before something large, pale, and very bald exploded from the trees and bounded towards them. Meg burst into a sprint, trying to drag Claudette with her, but the botanist just couldn’t keep up. 

“Meg, I’m wearing _loafers!_ I can’t run that fa-- _oh crap!_ ” Claudette’s foot caught on a protruding root in the path and she tumbled headfirst into the ground. Dwight sprinted past Jake, who was rushing back down the path to help her up. 

Disoriented, she pushed herself from the dirt and tried to stand, before an immense, clawed hand wrapped around her waist and yanked her backwards. She screamed raggedly, trying to pry its fingers from her body. It was of no use. The creature hoisted her up over its shoulder like a sack of flour and ran off back into the woods. Claudette’s scrabbling and clawing at the arm pinning her firmly down did nothing to sway her attacker. It scampered back into the foliage, apparently unbothered by the other survivors. 

“Oh my god. Oh my _god_ oh my god, dude, what the fuck was that,” Dwight babbled breathlessly, clutching his chest in panic. “The killers aren’t supposed to be able to come here!”

“What the _fuck_ was the Demogorgon doing here?!” Meg brought her hands to her head and paced in circles. “What does it want with us?” 

Jake didn’t speak, following the Demogorgon’s tracks back down the path. 

“We’re gonna have to go get her, right?” Dwight swallowed hard, trying to hide the fear in his trembling voice. “Who knows where it’s taking her?” 

Jake looked at its distinct footprints sunken into the soft forest floor, leading down the path and in between the trees far ahead of them. “Wherever it is, it’ll be easy to follow.” A pronounced frown was set into his face now. He didn’t show it, but the other two survivors knew he was worried for Claudette. 

“Well?” Meg said, starting down the path. “Come on.”

The other two followed her closely, keeping an eye on the trees around them. 

✦✦✦

“Let _go_ of me, you big ugly freak!” Claudette shrieked, kicking and punching the beast that had her firmly hefted over its shoulder. It was like punching a brick wall-- a squishy, warm, breathing brick wall. The Demogorgon was barely hindered by her efforts to escape. Every time one of its feet struck the ground, the wind was knocked from her chest. It was galloping _somewhere_. And it hadn’t killed her yet. 

She craned her neck, trying to see ahead of them, but her vision was spinning and dizzy from being jostled around so much. She could barely make out the shape of a portal on the ground in front of them before the beast tightened its grip around her waist and leapt in. 

“Holy _craaaaap!_ ” Claudette wasn’t sure if the intense dizziness and nausea she felt was from being upside down for so long, or if it was some weird side effect of being dragged through another dimension, but before she could think too hard about it she had been thrown down onto soft dirt. She landed with a soft _oof_ and remained facedown on the ground. She’d just lay here a little bit, at least until her stomach stopped churning…

✦✦✦

“This is it.” Jake pointed to what appeared to be a hole in the ground, obscured by a tangle of fleshy vines. “These are the Demogorgon’s portals. And, from the looks of it, they couldn’t have gone anywhere else.”

“It looks kind of like a butthole.” Dwight murmured. Meg gave him a light shove. 

“Well, we’re going butthole diving, then!” she exclaimed, dropping to a crouch and tearing away at the vines in the center until a Meg-sized hole was sitting invitingly in the center of the portal. 

“Please, never, never say that again,” Jake groaned, but she had already slipped through. “See you on the other side, Dwight.” 

“Wait, wait! Oh jeez. Come on, Dwight.” Dwight poked at the spongy vines and shuddered. “It’s not childbirth. You can do it.”

Gingerly, he pushed an arm through the portal, held his breath, and dove in.

✦✦✦

  
  


“Good boy! Good fetch-- oh jeez, did you kill her?” 

Claudette raised her head and saw a black figure with a dirty white mask in the spinning haze of her vision. It was giving the Demogorgon a good scratch underneath its… chin? 

With steadily growing alarm she realized that the figure in front of her was none other than the Legion. She got to her feet with some effort, rubbing her head and brushing the dirt from her apron. Nothing around her to defend herself with... except a mean looking stick just in her periphery.

Claudette snatched it, snapping it from the branch and brandishing it like a sword. “Don’t come any closer! I swear, I’ll… I’ll fight you!” Her cheeks turned hot. She wasn’t the firebrand type of person, and her threat sounded more fearful than fierce. 

“Hey, we’re not in a trial. I’m not going to lay a finger on you.” The voice was gruff and had an edge of annoyance to it.

“Yeah freaking right! Your entire existence is laying fingers on us!” Uh oh. That didn’t come out right. She grimaced. “Leave me alone! F..fffuck off!”

The F-word felt good to say. She wasn’t the swearing type, but she figured it would make her sound a little more threatening. The masked man in front of her continued to walk steadily forward with his hands up. No knife in sight.

“Look, lady, you’re gonna be outta here without a single scratch if you just _listen to me_.” Now he was only a few paces away. Claudette made an experimental jab with her makeshift weapon and was dismayed as it was totally ignored. She began to back up. 

“Sending your dog after me is a really, really unfair way to get me into a trial,” she snarled. “Come on, that’s the Entity’s job.” 

“For the last time, we are _not_ in a trial.” 

“Why should I trust you?” 

“If we wanted you dead, Demo over there would have finished the job as soon as he found you.” He gestured back to the creature, who was now sniffing around the grass intently. 

She stood there for a moment, thinking. He did have a point. Her frown twitched a little, and the hand holding the stick slowly dropped to her side. “...Okay. I’m listening. But if you make any sudden movements, this thing is going to be stabbing you! Really hard!” 

“Great. So, this is all going to sound really really crazy, but you’ll just have to hear me out-- wait--” Legion’s gaze whipped to the portal, which he could _swear_ was making some kind of grunting sound. Two slim hands burst from it and held onto its sides.

“ _Grraaaaahh!”_ Meg launched herself from the mound in the ground. “Oh my god, I’m gonna hurl… huh?” 

She looked to Claudette. Then at Legion. Then back at Claudette. He was just standing there… menacingly. The three of them were frozen with bated breath. 

“Claud, run!” Meg screamed, then charged directly at Legion. 

“Wait! No!” he hit the ground with a resounding _thud_. Meg was astride him in a second, her fists raised high above his face. “Oh my fucking god, I better get good payment for this.” 

“Meg, wait! It’s okay!” Claudette rushed over, dropping the stick. “He doesn’t have his knife or anything. We can just talk.”

“Just _talk?!_ ” Meg asked incredulously. “These guys don’t do talking!” 

“I can fucking explain, okay?” Legion exploded, shoving Meg off of his chest. “Holy shit. You survivors.” 

The two girls shuffled closer to each other defensively. Meg’s fists stayed balled tightly at her sides, ready to swing. 

“Okay, so all of us killers, we talk to each other--”

“ _Get away from them, you fucker!”_ Jake, who had just sprung from the portal, rushed forward. Dwight cowered behind him. 

Meg raised a hand to stop him. “We’re being diplomatic here, Jake.” 

Before he could splutter any kind of rebuttal, Legion interjected loudly. “As I was _saying_ , we killers talk to each other. And visit each other and shit. We have a club.”

“Called it.” Claudette muttered.

“It’s like a… a therapy group, I guess. It’s called Campers Anonymous. We hold meetings every week where we discuss and stuff.” 

“And?” Claudette said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, a couple killers aren’t getting the message ‘n’ Philip wants to bring some survivors in to help them turn around. Y’know, like a kind of family therapy thing.” 

Meg drew in a breath and was about to unleash an angry tirade on the killer before Claudette put a gentle hand on her shoulder, signaling her silence. 

“So you want us to come to your therapy group and talk about what it’s like to be camped.” Jake said slowly, a doubtful expression crossing his face. “And how do we know you’re not just all going to jump in and massacre us as soon as we walk in?” 

Legion threw his hands up in the air. “I guess you don’t know. But, like I told your other friend here,” he pointed to Claudette, “if we wanted you dead, the Demogorgon would’ve done the job as soon as he found you.” 

“I mean, he could’ve killed us all just now, if he wanted to,” Dwight chimed in nervously. “I say we give them a shot.” 

“And. I don’t mean to be insensitive, but… you guys respawn and all that. You don’t _really_ die. So there ain’t really a reason to worry anyway.”

“Just because we get to respawn doesn’t mean it’s any less horrific and painful to die, you asshole.” Meg spat. 

“Y’know, in any other circumstance, I would’ve been pretty happy to have a cute redhead straddling me. But you’re turning out to be a real bitch.” Legion said venomously.

“Me? I’m the bitch? Have I spent the past eternity torturing you and your friends endlessly? No, I think the fuck not.” 

“Guys…” Jake interjected wearily. “Let’s get going.”

“We might be a little late.” Legion began to stride off ahead of them, ushering the Demogorgon along with a snap of his fingers. “But Phil is gonna be real happy to see you.”


	4. Family Therapy (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ghostface and Meg destroy a Camper's Anonymous meeting without even realizing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy! <3 Comments are much appreciated.

Jake, Meg, Dwight, and Claudette trailed behind Legion (or Frank, as he had introduced himself) silently. They stood shoulder to shoulder, Claudette holding Meg’s hand in an effort to calm the feisty runner down.

Occasionally, Dwight would give Jake a nervous glance, which he often responded to with just a nod and a raise of his eyebrows. Dwight had come to take that as a sign of reassurance from the saboteur-- he didn’t often express concern or affection verbally, but he had a body language of his own that the other three had come to learn over time. 

None of them liked Midwich very much. It had, of course, become associated with gruesome and painful deaths, and the corpses in cages strewn all about the building certainly didn’t make it any more welcoming. The Demogorgon had left Legion at the door with a bark(?) and a wiggle of its tailless butt, so he presumably lived outside. The killer was now leading them down the hallway, whistling with his hands in his pockets, kicking a stray pebble across the ruined linoleum floor every now and again. 

“Hey, Phil!” he called. “Got your buddies here.” 

Right on cue, Wraith burst from the classroom a few doors down and gave the four survivors a cheerful wave. Claudette was the only one to wave back. He was practically jumping from foot to foot in barely concealed excitement, and as they drew nearer he clasped his hands to his chest and gave them a winning smile. 

“Oh, wonderful! Hello, friends! I’m so happy you could join us.” 

Jake furrowed his brow and scanned the hallway. No Azarov’s blade or whatever in sight, and he was dressed quite… strangely for a killer. He eyed the tie-dyed bandages that were wrapped around Wraith’s arms and legs, and the freshly cleaned blue shawl that complimented their colors around his shoulders. He nudged Meg. 

“If they jump us, I’ll try and distract them. Take Claud and Dwight and make a beeline for the exit.” he murmured, just out of Legion’s earshot. 

“My name is Philip. I think I’ve already ascertained each of your names from… ahem… your, um, screaming in our trials.” he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Well then. Jake?” 

Jake nodded. “That’s me.” 

“Meg?”

“Yep.” Meg confirmed.

“Dwight.” 

“Yeah.” the bespectacled man squeaked. 

“And… Claudette!” 

“You got it.” Claudette gave him a curious smile and tried to peer into the room behind him, where she could hear a medley of voices making conversation. 

“Wonderful! Come inside and I’ll introduce you to our members.” 

Wraith hurried into the classroom and Legion sauntered to his seat. The four survivors followed reluctantly, Jake swallowing hard as he felt the eyes of no less than fourteen killers all turn to him and his friends. Meg crossed her arms and put on a steely face, while Claudette and Dwight simply did their best not to look too much like schoolchildren who had just gotten in trouble. 

They stood there in awkward silence as Wraith scanned his clipboard, murmuring what was presumably an attendance list. 

“Ahem! Good morning, my friends! We have a few special guests here today to talk about their experiences in our trials. I think this will be a refreshing perspective for a lot of you.” 

There was a long and uncomfortable silence.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me!” Ghostface burst out cackling, slapping his knee. “Survivors! In a room full of killers! God, we could be tearing them to shreds right now! Phil, you’ve really lost it--” 

“ _ Danny. _ ” Trapper hissed through gritted teeth. 

The smaller killer rolled his eyes behind his mask, but shut up for the time being. Wraith looked at the survivors expectantly and gave them a reassuring nod. 

Claudette stepped forward. “My name is Claudette. And this is Jake, Dwight, and Meg.” She glanced behind her and barely stifled a giggle at Meg’s smoldering glare. “Uh… nice to meet you, I guess? Thanks for not killing us?”

“Come on, everybody,” Wraith goaded. 

A collective sigh seemed to run through the group.

“Hi, Claudette.” droned the monotone chorus of voices. The botanist couldn’t help but give the group a confused, but gracious smile. This  _ had  _ to be some kind of dream or joke played by the Entity-- this situation was absolutely absurd. She turned to Wraith and raised her eyebrows. “What is it you want us to do now?” 

“Uhm, well, I was just hoping you four could give our group a better idea of how their camping habits affect the ones closest to them.” Wraith hurriedly pulled out four more chairs and ushered the survivors into them. “Please, friends, don’t be afraid to speak up. We’re here to facilitate conversation.” 

“Well…” Jake took a deep breath. “It’s very unfair to the rest of us who are just trying to complete our objectives and make it out alive. Not to mention infuriating and painful for the person on the hook. It’s a totally cheap way to get kills.” 

“But you guys have perks to help you out with that.” Nurse wheezed. 

“We do, but not all of us know them. And they shouldn’t even have to exist-- a good killer knows how to pressure survivors  _ without  _ camping the hook.”

“It also really sucks to try to save your teammate and get punished for that.” Dwight piped up. “Imagine if you were just trying to help one of your friends out and somebody went and stabbed  _ you  _ just for trying.”

A few killers looked to the ground contemplatively. Ghostface, however, seemed completely indifferent. He kicked his legs out and leaned back in his chair, yawning theatrically. Most would have responded in anger, but Wraith simply let out an inaudible, dispirited sigh. It didn’t look like he was going to listen to reason here, or open himself up to improvement. 

“It’s really hard not to camp when you guys teabag, though.” Hillbilly rubbed the back of his neck. “It just makes us want to guarantee the kill, y’know? It’s disrespectful.” 

“That’s true. I can’t speak for all survivors, but I know that we,” Meg gestured to her friends, “only do that when we feel you’re being unfair. It might even be good to see that as a sign to check your own behavior in the match.” 

“Man, you guys should just teabag them back. Hell, y’know what’s even better? Teabagging them while they’re on the hook.” Ghostface said loudly, shaking his head. “I don’t get why me ‘n’ Amanda are the only ones who do that.” 

“I  _ don’t  _ do that,” Pig said quietly. “Having the ability to crouch does not automatically make you a teabagger.” 

Wraith was beginning to feel tensions rise in the room. Not only were the survivors beginning to grow fed up with Ghostface’s shenanigans, but the normally gentle and mild Trapper was beginning to shift uncomfortably in his seat, the muscles in his neck taut. His eyes flitted over to Legion, who was rubbing his knuckles in annoyance. It was unusual that he stayed this quiet for this long, especially when it came to dealing with Ghostface. He must’ve been working on his anger issues sometime between the meetings. 

“You’re a real asshole, y’know that?” Meg suddenly seethed, standing up and striding towards Ghostface with her teeth gritted and her hands in tight fists. “Really. I was right about you. You really are just a no good, rat-faced, slimy little c--” 

“ _ Meg _ . Please.” Claudette said in a hushed voice, grabbing the runner by the elbow just before she could get within knifing distance of the black-clad killer. Meg stilled, but didn’t sit down. 

Wraith was beginning to get nervous. He clasped his hands in front of him, grimacing. “Please, friends, there’s no need to get angry--”

“Oh yeah? I’m sick of you little fuckin’ pricks getting in the way of my kills.” Ghostface was getting to his feet now, hand moving to the sheath of his hunting knife at his side. “You wanna go,  _ Meg _ ? Let’s see who lasts longer.” 

“Danny, don’t be like that.” Spirit said desperately, reaching a ghostly hand out to pat his arm. “Sit down. Come on.” 

Meg gently shook her arm free of Claudette’s grasp and stalked forward, fists raised. She didn’t have a knife, sure, but she was sure her bare hands would do just fine. Ghostface mirrored her movement, squaring his shoulders and leaving his knife at its catch. He’d give her a fair fight, at least. Now that they were standing practically chest to chest, Meg could see just how much taller he was than her, but that didn’t faze her in the slightest. 

  
Wraith looked to Trapper and gesticulated wildly. 

“Okay, you two, enough.” Trapper stood up and severed the space between the two with his hands, pushing them each backwards by their chest. “Danny, we’re going out in the hall.”

“Like hell we are!” Ghostface protested, jabbing his finger in Trapper’s face. “You think you can tell me what to do?” 

And with that, the last of Trapper’s patience was consumed. 

He roared, snatching the hand waving in front of his face in one brick-like fist and dragging the smaller killer out of the circle and towards the doorway. Nurse and Spirit quickly parted their chairs to let the two through. Soon, as the sound of Ghostface’s kicking and screaming faded away and down the hallway, the same awkward silence filled the room. 

“I think it’s best we consider this meeting adjourned.” Wraith said weakly, getting up from his chair and shuffling to the door. “Thank you so much for participating, you four.” 

“No problem.” Claudette said gently, pushing Meg out the door by the small of her back. She could hear the defeat and the tremble in his voice as he bade them goodbye. “If you need us again, we’d be happy to come.” 

“Yeah,” said Jake, after a long pause. “You really don’t need to kidnap us, too. Just send Frank or something.” 

“I hope the next meeting goes better.” Dwight gave Wraith a sheepish smile and darted out after his friends. 

Spirit and Huntress each rushed to Wraith, soothing him with hushed whispers and pats to the back. The other killers tried their best to be helpful, stacking their chairs and offering him brief words of apology or encouragement as they streamed out the door. 

Soon, he was alone in the classroom, slumped over in his chair with his face in his hands. 

It felt like forever before he heard heavy bootsteps echoing down the hallway. He didn’t even look up as Trapper pulled up a chair next to him and laid a heavy, comforting arm around his shoulders. 

“Where’s Danny?” Wraith asked, voice barely a whisper. 

“Not here.” Trapper said impassively. “He stormed out a few minutes ago. I tried my best to talk to him.” 

Wraith raised his eyes to Trapper’s and tried to still his wobbling lip, throat burning. He couldn’t cry here. Not now, not in front of Evan. But his luminescent white eyes were glistening with tears. 

“Oh, Philip.” Trapper said softly, before Wraith broke into a round of quiet sobs and collapsed into his chest. “Philip, it’s okay. He’s just not worth it.” 

“I thought--  _ hi _ c-- things would go better than that.” The gentle killer’s words were broken by thick sobs. “I never thought I’d have a meeting fail so badly. And--  _ hic _ \-- what if the other killers want to camp now? Because of how Meg--  _ hic _ \-- acted?” 

“It’ll be okay. Not every meeting is going to be perfect, Philip. You expect too much of yourself.” 

“I just want to help them. Help  _ him _ .” 

“You can’t help them if you’re overextending yourself over one person.” Trapper gave his friend’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “We can try again next week. I’ll help you make a plan. And if you don’t want Danny in attendance, I’ll make sure that happens.” 

“...Okay.” Wraith sniffled. “Could you walk me home, please?” 

“Of course.” Trapper said gently, taking Wraith’s arm in his as they got up. “It would be my pleasure.” 

  
  
  
  



End file.
